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books – chapter two

September 21, 2011

it started with a text message two days before. a message asking for them to meet. they’ve been communicating electronically for 2 years now and they’ve swapped pictures, but they really haven’t met yet. unknowingly, they’ve become the best of friends. subconciously, they had sealed their fates.

but it didn’t actually start until he decided to bring the book somewhere else. his reviewer for an exam by the next day. he didn’t really want to go. he just couldn’t stay at home. the book- that reviewer, would be useless there.

so there he was, sporting his jacket, seemingly sufficient to protect him from the razing cold, but it didn’t. he knew that all parts of him were cold. nothing at that point gave him warmth. not even the prospect of the long-delayed meet up with his friend. he looked at his watch, 12:50 am.

in fact, he wasn’t at all interested. had it been a different day, a different time, a different phase, this meet up would have been met with enthusiasm. a couple of months earlier, or a couple of months later, it’d have been perfect. now was not the time. it’s not even because of the exams.

while waiting at the side of the road – backpack snugly fit behind, slung only by one shoulder – he fidgeted with his phone, the one snugly fit in his pants. with a deep sigh, he thrust his left hand inside the left pocket and pulled out his mobile.

with a disappointed smug, he found it blinking. his friend was calling. He cancelled the call and put the phone back inside his pocket.

books, as we’ll call the guy for now, looked around him. on his side of the road, no one was visible. aside from the parked vehicles and the stray cats, it seemed he was alone. On the other side however, people were there. he laughed. maybe it is true that the grass is greener on the other side, books thought.

in that respect, books’ friends considered him weird. he always thought of the damndest ideas, the most unlikely of possibilities. like the time he tried to use cooking oil as a form of sunblock. Or when he agreed to stick with his partner, who had another guy, and decided to just arrange it as a three-way.

books cupped his right jeans pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. inside it he took a stick and a lighter. he placed the crumpled up filter end and cupped his left hand around the lighter’s mouth. he flicked his lighter. as he pressed the yellow flame to the end of his cigarette, the flame died.

he tried again. “fuck!”

the very first word we’ve heard books say.

“fuck!” he says again, after giving it another unsuccessful try.

and another.

and another.

as he took the cigarette from his lips, he made a sharp inhale of air. the filter end accidentally stuck to his dry chapped lips. he crumpled the cigarette and threw it to the ground. he placed the lighter back inside the cigarette pack, and replaced the pack back to his right pocket.

he noticed that the number of passing cars had been thinning down. he glanced at his watch, 01:20 am. enough, he said in his mind. he’ll just deal with the house. stay at home. even if he won’t be able to review tonight back there.

the next day – chapter one

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